


Farther Than You Ever Have

by LilianRoses



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Flexibility, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Slight Otayuri but it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilianRoses/pseuds/LilianRoses
Summary: Viktor always wondered why Mila, Yuuri, and Yuri hadn't invited him to their extra training sessions. His curiosity reached the point where he asked if they could join them one day. Yuuri allowed it, but on the condition that he couldn't just watch him; he actually had to participate and be careful. Viktor agreed, because he was a professional figure skater. How bad could it be?Very bad. He made a mistake.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hamstring Hangovers are a thing. That's what my dance instructor calls the pain in your legs, pelvis, and abs the day after a performance or hard practice. She warns all the newbies about them. You will feel _fucked up_ until you get used to the stretches and movements. 
> 
> Comments bring me joy! Please leave one! ^v^/

\-----

Viktor pouted as Yuuri packed his bag, kissed his cheek, and told him that he'd see him at home.

 

He watched as his husband  _(his husband)_ sent a text, no doubt to Mila, that he was on his way to the studio near the rink. He and Yuuri  _used_ to take the evenings off after training, and cuddle with Makkachin on the couch. But that was before the start of the season started looming closer, and Yuuri decided that he wasn't as flexible as he needed to be to effectively complete his routines. Where his theme had been  _'love'_ last year, this year's was  _'endurance'._ His short program was supposed to tell the story of a _'heartbroken lover rediscovering themselves and their wiles'_. His free skate was supposed to paint the image of a rise to glory from the depths of defeat; starting slow, but gaining momentum towards the end until the audience couldn't help but cheer for the hero who had won their battle despite the hardships. 

 

(Viktor had made the obvious stamina joke and had a pillow thrown at him for it. Worth it.)

 

But Yuuri had been horrified when he realized that he wasn't as limber as he was a few months ago. He had been so worried about not letting his weight go that he hadn't been giving enough attention to his flexibility. If he wanted to perform his choreography the way he had imagined it, he needed to rectify this issue immediately. Mila had suggested that they practice together for an hour or two after practice to get back into competition shape. Yuuri had agreed, happy that he had been accepted by his new rink mates. She had invited Yuri as well, and he had cursed and snarled and growled, but he still attended the _'stretch sessions'_ regularly.

 

Viktor sulked into the couch. Stretch sessions. Why wasn't he invited? He was plenty flexible. Well, he was as flexible as a figure skater needed to be. Which was  _still_ pretty limber. He rolled over, burying his face into the cushion. To be honest, he'd never really put much emphasis on flexibility in his routines. Sure, he took dance classes for fluidity and rhythm like many figure skaters. But he wasn't like Yuuri and Yuri who had taken them on a regular basis for years. So most of his routines were strength and performance based: lots of quads, a decent amount of spins, and dramatic gestures. He'd been awed when Yuuri had refined his step-sequences, and even Yuri had done some movements that he couldn't imagine attempting.

 

(He'd still won five gold medals. And Yuuri was his husband. He should have been invited.)

 

Makkachin perked up at the sound of the front door opening, and Viktor rose from his position. Yuuri called out, and smiled when he saw him. Said smile fell when he saw his hair, the cushion in his arms, and the pout, however.

 

"Oh, no. You've been sulking. What happened this time, Vitya?"

"Yuuri, why haven't you ever invited me to your stretch sessions?"

 

Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

 

"Um, because you've never shown an interest in what we  _do_ during our stretch sessions. If you look at your past routines, none of them look like you'd really benefit from them."

"But I'm a figure skater too-"

"Vitya. You need to focus on your strength training. It's what your most common moves require. If Yakov thought you needed flexibility training, you'd be right beside Yurio with Madame Lilia. Trust me."

 

Viktor eyes doubled in size, and his pout deepened.

 

"Please, Yuuri? Just one. I just want to go to one. I'm your coach, right? Shouldn't I know what your regimine is?  _Pleeeease?"_

 

Yuuri was reminded of when Viktor was adamant that they needed to sleep together at the onsen. He'd been very persistent. And it was only for one...he sighed. But his expression was stern when he spoke.

 

"You know what? Fine. But you're not going to just sit there and watch me, okay? If you're going to come, you're going to at least keep busy and participate. And you have to be careful, okay?"

"Okay!"

"This isn't going to be a regular thing, Vitya."

"Alright!"

"Do you have any pants that won't rip?"

"Um. Probably? I can't wear sweats?"

"This is such a bad idea."

\-----

Yuri had taken one look at him and scowled.

 

"Oh hell no. What are you doing here, asshole?"

"Yuuri invited me!"

"...What the  _hell,_ Piggy?"

"He was adamant. And he said he was going to participate."

"He's in  _sweats._ "

 

Viktor raised an eyebrow. Why did they say it like it was a bad word? He thought they were comfortable enough. Mila seemed to read his mind.

 

"It's not about  _comfort,_ Viktor. It's about not baring your ass. You should be the one doing splits, not your pants."

 

Yuri scoffed.

 

"Can the old man even  _do_ a full split?"

 

Now _that_ , that was just uncalled for.

 

"One,  _Yuri,_ I am not an  _old man._ Yuuri here is only four years my junior. And two, I'm a figure skater. Of  _course_ I can do a full split."

"You can do what you  _think_ is a full split. But can you do what  _we_ consider a full split?"

 

Viktor was insulted by Yuri and Mila's lack of confidence in him. He turned to Yuuri for support, but his husband wouldn't meet his eyes. He frowned, determined.

 

"I'll show you all. I can do anything you can do, maybe even better."

\-----

"Okay.  _Okay._ _Ow,_ Yuuri, I said okay!"

 

Yuuri immediately let up, and looked at Viktor's form with pursed lips.

 

"Um...Viktor? If that's as far as you can go then you should stop-"

 

Viktor blinked, and scrunched his eyebrows.

 

"How much farther do you usually go?"

"Well, you'renot used to stretching for this long-"

"Not what I asked, love."

"Well, for this position it's usually chest to knees."

 

Viktor made a noise that was a cross between a groan and a whine, and Yuuri winced from where he had been reluctantly pushing against Viktor's back. Viktor nodded, and Yuuri gently resumed his previous actions. Not hard enough to make any real difference, Yuri noticed with a scoff.

 

"Don't pull anything, Vitya-"

"Don't underestimate me-"

"I'm not, I just don't want you to-"

"I can do it-"

" _Vitya-_ "

 

Yuri snorted. Viktor turned to him, and noticed with incredulity that he was in a full front-split with his elbows on the floor in front of him,  _texting._  He looked totally, utterly, completely unaffected. He looked as comfortable as he would standing regularly, and he was texting Otabek about future travel plans as though he  _wasn't_ in the middle of an advanced stretch with no assistance. 

 

(Viktor was _not_ jealous, okay?)

 

"This is even more pathetic than when I tried to help Beka with his flexibilty, and that was a fucking event. At least he wasn't a dumbass and knew when to tap the hell out."

" _Never-_ "

"Are you stupid? Beka is almost ten fucking years younger than you and he still has more common sense. Whatever. You're the one whose going to fuck yourself up, old man."

 

Viktor sat up and turned to Yuuri, eyes narrowed.

 

"Can  _you_ do it?"

"U-um...yeah..."

"Show me."

 

Yuuri bit his lip. After a few moments of deep breathing, he was, in fact, chest to knees, also with no assistance.

 

(Viktor was a strange mix of aroused and frustrated.)

 

Mila smirked from where she was doing a standing side-split ( _without any fucking assistance_ ). 

 

"Don't feel bad, Viktor. We've been at it for longer than you have. And at least you can do a full side-split; not every figure skater can do that."

 

This didn't make Viktor feel any better. In fact, it made him more frustrated than before. 

 

"This is ridiculous, though! I should be _better_  at this! But I can't even complete a _warm-up_ to your standards!"

"Yeah. You sort of fucking suck."

" _Yuri."_

"What? You know you're thinking it too, Piggy. You knew when you brought him. The look on your face  _screamed_ that you thought it was a bad idea."

"I tried to stop him-"

 

Mila snapped her fingers. The two stopped, but Yuri's scowl didn't leave fully. He brought his foot down from his standing front-split ( _for fuck's sake)_ , finally looking up from his phone.

 

"Because Piggy here  _sucks_ at confrontation and can't say no to you for shit, I'll explain it to you. We didn't invite you, old man, because you're not on our level. You haven't attended a dance class in almost ten fucking years. You don't own the proper gear, you don't know the proper way to warm-up, and you can't even man the fuck up and tap-out when you need to. All you're doing is fucking yourself up and giving Piggy anxiety because he  _knows_ you're fucking yourself up. It's only a few weeks until the season starts. I can't kick your ass if you have a torn  _biceps femoris._ Get your shit together already."

 

Viktor immediately felt bad. Yuuri had been trying to keep him safe and uninjured, but he'd let his pride get the best of him. He hugged his husband, who hugged him back immediately.

 

"I'm sorry, love. I just wanted to spend more of the day with you."

"It's okay, Vitya. We'll make time somehow, alright? Just not here. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Okay. See you at home?"

"I'll see you at home."

 

Yuuri kissed Viktor, and Viktor gave Yuuri's ring and the man once more before he made his leave. He smiled.

 

It'd all work out.

\-----

**Epilogue**

\-----

" _Fuuuuuuucccckkk."_

"I know, Vitya."

"My legs are on  _fire._ "

"I know, Vitya."

"My  _e_ _verything is on fire._ "

"I  _know,_ Vitya."

"Why didn't you  _warn me_ about this? It's like ice-skating aches times  _one-hundred._ "

" _I tried,_  Vitya. And it just seems worse becuase you've acclimated yourself to the pain of ice-skating. Not to mention the fact that you've just used some muscles that you haven't really taken advantage of in a while pretty roughly."

"I feel like tearing my legs off."

"Don't do that."

 

Vitya laid on the couch, cursing mentally in three seperate languages. His legs and pelvis were killing him. There was no way he could land a quad feeling like this. Yuuri had dug a heating pad and some painkillers out of their first-aid kit, and promised to explain to Yakov that he wasn't feeling the best.

 

(That was good. Yakov liked Yuuri better anyway.)

 

His phone buzzed, and he swore as he stretched to grab it off of the coffee table. It was a message from Mila, with several photo attachments.

 

_'Heard you werent feeling well. Should have warned u about the Hamstring Hangover. Got u a get well gift tho.'_

 

The photos turned out to be of Yuuri in the studio (since his coach was indisposed) practicing in black and red dance shorts and Viktor's Team Russia jacket. He would have thought he was unaware, but one photo was of Yuuri winking toward the camera in the middle of a standing side-split. 

 

(He was suddenly grateful for the pain if this is what it brought him.)

\-----

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a personal experience. My brother decided to just show up one day to watch dance practice (even though you weren't supposed to enter the studio before the practice was over). My instructor was so pissed off that he had interrupted that she told him that if he was going to enter the studio he was going to practice with us. He had been like 'whatever I can dance LOL sure' but by the end of it he felt like dying. 
> 
> (My teammates felt bad for him but I found it hilarious, does that make me evil?)


End file.
